Her husband’s face tightened, and a tide of angry colour stained Sir Denholm’s thin cheeks. ‘My God!’ he said explosively, oblivious of the mixed company. ‘I couldn’t believe the verdict when I heard it! “Accidental death!” Accidental, my foot!’
Elizabeth looked enquiringly at Tom Nicholson for enlightenment. There was a moment’s uncomfortable silence in which Julienne continued to smile as she toyed with her prawns, well satisfied with the furore she had caused.
‘We had an unfortunate incident here some months ago,’ Tom Nicholson said to Elizabeth at last, trying to sound dismissive about it and failing. ‘There was an ugly fist-fight and one of the men suffered a severe brain haemorrhage and died. The case came to court last week. Medical evidence showed that he had an abnormally thin skull, and the verdict was “accidental death”.’
‘It was murder!’ Sir Denholm said harshly. ‘Elliot should be hanged! He defamed the character of his wife in order to save his neck! It was a disgraceful unforgivable exhibition!’
‘But what if it were true?’ Julienne murmured provocatively, ignoring the silencing glare her husband shot her. ‘If Melissa were taking drugs, and if the gentleman that Raefe found in her bed was a drug-pusher.…’
‘Stuff and nonsense!’ Sir Denholm barked, pushing his plate to one side, all interest in his food forgotten. ‘I’ve known the Langdon family for over twenty years! Melissa Langdon is a dear sweet girl who should never have married a rogue like Elliot! The man’s a blackguard! He’s ruined her life! Done his best to ruin her reputation! And he has the effrontery to pose as the injured party!’
‘Some injured party,’ Ronnie Ledsham said drily. ‘He walked into the Hong Kong Club the night he was acquitted, with a Malay girl on his arm.’
‘I hope he was shown the door!’ Sir Denholm said savagely. ‘Insolent young pup!’
‘I imagine it’s a little hard to show the door to a man of Elliot’s wealth and background,’ Alastair Munroe said quietly. ‘No doubt he will be asked to resign his membership and honour will be satisfied.’
Elizabeth shot him a quick look, wondering if she was correct in detecting a faint note of contempt in his voice, certain that, if there were, it was directed towards the elitist policies of the club, and not towards the scandalous Raefe Elliot.
‘And no doubt he will refuse,’ Helena Nicholson said, looking across at her brother-in-law. ‘Personally I don’t blame him. There are surely worse sins in life than escorting a Chinese or Malay girl into the hallowed halls of the all-white Hong Kong Club!’
To Elizabeth’s surprise she saw that Tom Nicholson’s face had hardened and that a nerve had begun to throb at the corner of his jaw. He cleared his throat to speak, but before he could do so Lady Gresby said coldly: ‘You are, of course, entitled to your own point of view, Helena. But I must tell you that it is a singularly naive one. If Mr Elliot wishes to parade his native mistress in public, then he may do so. But he will not do so in the Hong Kong Club. Not now, nor at any time in the future.’
‘He shouldn’t be in the damn club himself!’ Sir Denholm expostulated, ‘There’s more than a touch of the tarbrush about Elliot, and no one can tell me any differently!’
‘A touch of a tarbrush?’ Julienne asked, her cheeks dimpling, ‘I am sorry, I do not understand.’
‘The fellow’s got wog blood,’ Sir Denholm said bluntly. ‘Must have. Hair black as his isn’t natural.’
‘But I thought Raefe Elliot’s pedigree was impeccable!’ Julienne said, her eyes widening. ‘Isn’t he descended from the Captain Elliot who first annexed the island from the Chinese?’
‘That’s what the fellow would like us to think!’ Sir Denholm spluttered. ‘Personally, I have my doubts. And, even if he is, it doesn’t mean there’s no mixed blood in his veins! Elliot’s grandfather lived up-country for forty years. You can bet your life that his grandmother was a native!’
Before Julienne could bait him any further, Tom Nicholson said smoothly: ‘is your horse going to run at Happy Valley on Saturday, Ronnie? Julienne tells me that you have a new jockey. Is he any good?’
Later, when they were sitting drinking coffee in the spacious drawing-room, Ronnie Ledsham leaned over to his wife and whispered chastisingly: ‘You were very naughty, darling. 1 thought old Denholm was going to have an apoplectic fit!’
Sir Denholm was sitting at the far side of the room talking to Helena Nicholson and didn’t hear him, but Elizabeth did. Julienne, aware that she had overheard, turned towards her. ‘We are not really so ill-behaved as we seem. It is just that Sir Denholm loses his temper so quickly and so magnificently, and there are times when I cannot resist provoking him.’
‘And mention of Elliot always provokes him,’ her husband murmured, taking care that Sir Denholm did not overhear him.
‘Who on earth is this Raefe Elliot that he arouses such passion?’ Elizabeth asked as Adam moved away from her to look at some ancient Chinese scrolls that Tom Nicholson was eager he should admire.
Julienne’s eyes danced. ‘He is very handsome, very exciting; an American who lives by no rules but his own. He is also a part of Hong Kong in a way that Sir Denholm and his friends can never be. It is this, I think, that so enrages them.’
‘He’s dangerous,’ Ronnie said, looking across at his wife with a curious expression in his eyes. ‘Especially to women.’ The conversation on the far side of the room between Helena Nicholson and Sir Denholm and his wife continued; Alastair and Adam were engrossed in examining Tom Nicholson’s antique scrolls. Ronnie settled himself comfortably on the arm of Julienne’s chair and with a proprietorial arm around her shoulders said: ‘The Elliots are an old New Orleans family, though the rumour that they are descended from the Captain Elliot who first hoisted a Union Jack aloft and claimed Hong Kong for the British remains. Old man Elliot, Raefe’s grandfather, made a fortune by trading. Raefe’s father consolidated it with rubber estates in Malaya and a tin mine in Sumatra. Whatever else they’ve been accused of, they can’t be accused of being bad businessmen. The whole lot of them were, and are, as sharp as needles.’
‘And just what have the Elliots been accused of?’ Elizabeth asked, intrigued.
Ronnie Ledsham grinned. ‘Whoring seems to have been their main vice. It’s said that old man Elliot kept two concubines, aged fifteen and eighteen, when he was well into his eighties. Hence the rumours that abound about Raefe Elliot’s ancestry. Raefe’s father was no better. He snatched a high-ranking government official’s daughter from her home only hours before she was due to be married to another, man. By the time her father and his friends retrieved her, she was pregnant with Raefe and compromised beyond all hope. It is said that her father wept all through the wedding ceremony.’
‘The bride’s father may have wept, but if the groom was as handsome as Raefe, then the bride would not have done so,’ Julienne said with a wicked chuckle. ‘She would have been a very happy lady!’
Ronnie gave her a playful cuff on the side of her chin. ‘Don’t cast your eyes in that direction,’ he warned laconically. ‘Raefe Elliot is far too dangerous a man for your little games. You would get very badly burned, my love.’
Julienne’s chuckle deepened, but she took his hand, twisting her fingers lovingly through his as Helena Nicholson looked across at them and said: ‘Can we have some music now, Elizabeth? Just for a little while.’
The piano was an old Bechstein, its surface crowded with family photographs in silver frames.
‘I’m afraid it isn’t played very often,’ Tom Nicholson said apologetically as she sat on the piano stool and opened the lid. ‘It’s probably grossly out of tune.’
She ran her fingers experimentally over the keys. It wasn’t what she was used to, but it was still a very lovely piano.
‘It’s fine,’ she said. ‘What would you like me to play?’
He smiled down at her, the expression in his eyes changing from one of easy camaraderie to one which told her how very lovely he thought she was. �
�Play anything,’ he said, his voice thickening. ‘But don’t play for a little while. Play for a long while.’
His admiration didn’t ruffle her. She was accustomed to seeing heat in men’s eyes when they spoke to her. And she was accustomed to not being disturbed by it.
Sensing the taste of her audience, she didn’t play any classical music. To Tom Nicholson’s surprise and pleasure, she played delicate blues and then straight jazz, finishing off with a medley of tunes by Jerome Kern, Cole Porter and Irving Berlin.
‘Heavens!’ Helena said rapturously, when she refused to be pressed into playing any longer. ‘I would never have believed that old piano could possibly sound like that!’
‘A magnificent performance!’ Lady Gresby said. ‘I’m afraid that from now on there won’t be a party in Hong Kong at which you won’t be asked to play, my dear!’
As they were all about to leave, Helena Nicholson took Elizabeth discreetly to one side.
‘Just a quick little word, Elizabeth. I would hate Sir Denholm to have left you with the impression that Raefe Elliot is an unconscionable blackguard. He does have some redeeming features.’ Her mouth quirked in a naughty smile. ‘He’s the most damnably attractive man on the island, and that’s saying something! What drives Miriam and her friends wild is that he pays not the slightest attention to their marriageable daughters. Or to them. It’s an insult they can’t forgive. Julienne has been madly in love with him ever since she first saw him and, for once, I don’t blame her. Where Raefe is concerned, I could nearly forget my quiet lifestyle and live very dangerously myself!’
‘It’s hard to believe it’s only our first week here,’ Adam said to her as he lay in bed later that night, watching her as she undressed. ‘We’re having lunch with Sir Denholm and his wife tomorrow, on Sunday we’re lunching with Alastair Munroe and Helena Nicholson, and going to a party at the Ledshams’in the evening. We’re playing a doubles of tennis on Monday with Tom and Helena, going on to a polo match with them, and dining with Leigh Stafford in the evening.’
She sat down in her négligé at the dressing-table and began to brush her hair. She was going swimming with Julienne in the morning, shopping with Helena in the afternoon. The social life in Hong Kong was proving as full and relaxed as Adam had promised it would be. And she wasn’t remotely interested in it. She didn’t want an endless round of parties and dinners. She didn’t want to fill her days with swimming and shopping. She wanted to be working. To be practising hard for the International Piano Competition, to be extending her range, coming to terms with the new composers Professor Hurok had introduced her to – Vaughan Williams and Busoni and Pfitzer.
She put down her hairbrush, walking across to the large double bed and slipping in between the cool sheets beside him. His arm automatically slid round her shoulders, pulling her close, and she said tentatively: ‘Sir Denholm is a member of the government out here, and he doesn’t think there’s the slightest possibility of an attack by the Japanese. Wouldn’t it be wisest to go back to England? Julienne says that foreign newspapers are full of reports of how war between Great Britain and Germany is only weeks away. I know you don’t want to be relegated to a desk job, darling, but desk jobs are vital and—’
‘No!’ His voice was adamant as with his free hand he switched off the bedside lamp, plunging the room into semi-darkness. ‘If the reports in the foreign press are true, then it would be far too dangerous for you in London. You are much safer staying here where, if there is a confrontation, it will be miles away up-country.’
His lips touched the side of her mouth, his fingers gently pulling the straps of her nightdress down, revealing the creamy white smoothness of her breasts, the rose-pink perfection of her nipples.
‘Forget what Sir Denholm said,’ he whispered hoarsely, rolling his weight on top of her, sliding her nightdress up to her waist, revelling in the delicious feel of her flesh against his, savouring her softness and fragrance. ‘Stafford says the government is blind – that they haven’t a true grasp of the situation.’ Tenderly his hand parted her thighs as he gently eased himself into her. ‘God, that’s good, Beth!’ he panted. ‘Hold me! Hold me tight!’
She held him tight and she thought about Sir Denholm and wondered how on earth she could get Adam to agree to a return to London. With a groan he reached a climax, his hands tightening on her shoulders, his mouth closing lovingly over hers. She hugged him tight, telling him how much she loved him, remaining in his arms until he fell asleep and then, as she always did, gently disentangling herself. Perhaps Tom Nicholson could persuade him that he was wasting his time in remaining in Hong Kong, Perhaps, soon, the novelty would wear off. She lay on the far side of the bed, gazing up at the moonlit ceiling, hoping fervently that it would do so; that they would soon be back in London.
She went swimming at the prestigious Hong Kong Sports Club with Julienne the next morning.
‘Isn’t Tom Nicholson a sweetie?’ Julienne asked as she came up from a dive, her dark hair sleeked close to her head, her long eyelashes sparkling with water.
‘He’s very nice,’ Elizabeth agreed, striking out for the far side Of the pool, Julienne swimming along beside her.
Julienne giggled. ‘Don’t be so English and reticent, Elizabeth! It’s obvious that he is crazy about you. Tom doesn’t fall in love easily, or often, so it’s quite a compliment.’ She looked across at Elizabeth naughtily. ‘Do you think you could fall in love with him?’
‘I’m married,’ Elizabeth said, laughing at Julienne’s ridiculousness as they reached the far side of the pool and hung on to the edge, recovering their breath.
Julienne laughed with her. ‘Marriage!’ she said expressively. ‘What difference does marriage make?’ And with a kick of her heels she executed a professional racing turn, not breaking the surface of the water until she was nearly thirty yards away.
Later, as they sat over cold drinks in the bar, Julienne said to her, incredulously: ‘Do you mean that you have never had an affair?’
‘Never,’ Elizabeth said, amused by the expression of horror on Julienne’s pretty, kittenlike face.
‘But that is terrible!’ Julienne protested and then collapsed into giggles. ‘Oh dear, what must you think of me? But really, Elizabeth, I cannot imagine it. I adore Ronnie, but not to have any little adventures now and again? Non, je ne peux pas l’imaginer! You must be very much in love with your Adam!’
Elizabeth’s answering laugh indicated that she was, but as she continued to sip at her gin and tonic she knew that her love for Adam was not the kind of love that Julienne was meaning.
As they continued to talk, and as Julienne continued to be indiscreet, telling her about her present lover, who was a major in the Royal Scots, Elizabeth remained unenvious. The love that she and Adam shared was worth far more than the love Julienne enjoyed with her major or with her other boyfriends. It wasn’t a very exciting kind of love, but it was deep and enduring and was surely of far greater value.
‘Excuse me a moment,’ Julienne said, breaking off her laughter-filled account of her latest affair. ‘I promised Ronnie I would ring him and let him know where to meet me for lunch.’
She slipped down from her bar stool, blowing a kiss to a gentleman in the far corner of the room who obviously knew her, hurrying away towards the telephone booths.
Elizabeth remained at the bar, reflecting on how different social mores were in Hong Kong and London. In London she would never, not even for an instant, have remained at a bar alone.
‘Another gin and tonic, madame?’ the Chinese barman asked courteously.
‘No, thank you. I’ll have a lemonade this time, please.’
As the barman turned to fulfil her request, two casually dressed men entered the room and approached the bar. ‘I’ve never heard such a tirade of rubbish!’ one of them said darkly as they sat down next to her. ‘Straight off the boat from England and he believes he knows all there is to know about fighting off the Japs if they should attack! Christ! He believe
s they’ll be fought up-country and that life here will go on as normal! One thing is for sure: he’s the kind of middle-aged fool we can well do without! What did you say his name was?’
The barman handed Elizabeth her frosted glass of lemonade.
‘Harland,’ replied his companion.
Elizabeth gasped with shock and indignation, her fingers slipping on the ice-cold glass. It crashed to the floor, its contents gushing down the trouser leg of the man who had called Adam a fool. He spun round savagely. ‘What the hell …?’ he began, his eyes blazing.
His hair was black, straight and sleek, tumbling low over winged eyebrows. His skin was bronzed, his face harsh with high lean cheekbones and a strong nose and jutting jaw. He looked like a man to be reckoned with, a man who could be a very nasty customer indeed.
‘I’m sorry,’ she said furiously, his masculinity coming at her in waves. ‘It was an accident!’
His eyes were brown. Not the soft honey-brown of Adam’s eyes, but a brown so dark it was almost black. ‘Allow me to buy you another one,’ he said, and she could see flecks of gold near his pupils and a small white scar curving down through one eyebrow. ‘What was it? A gin and tonic?’
‘A lemonade,’ she said between clenched teeth. ‘And I would not like another one! It may interest you to know that the man you were talking about with such a gross lack of respect is my husband!’
A flare of shock passed through his eyes and was quickly suppressed. ‘Then, I must insist on buying you a drink,’ he said and to her increased fury she could hear amusement in his voice. ‘Li, a lemonade for Mrs Harland, please.’
Elizabeth rose to her feet, shaking with anger. She had no need to wait for him to introduce himself. She knew who he was. Sir Denholm’s description of him had been searingly accurate.
‘No, thank you!’ she said, spitting the words. ‘Goodbye, Mr Elliot!’ And she spun on her heel, marching from the room, her head high, her back rigid.
A Multitude of Sins Page 13
